


No Thoroughfare

by Lisafer



Series: The Dickens Arc [1]
Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, Unrequited Crush, may-december relationship, multi-gen pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisafer/pseuds/Lisafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kel and Wyldon are stuck in the middle of nowhere, and a run-in with an old acquaintance brings up new questions for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Thoroughfare

“This weather is too much for the horses!” Wyldon’s voice was barely audible over the howling wind.

“We can make camp!” Kel shouted back. But building a campsite in this weather would be next to impossible, unless they lucked into a copse of trees. They were in the middle of the plains, the breadbasket of Tortall, though, and from where she stood, Kel couldn’t see one tree. Let alone enough to offer protection. 

“We need to find shelter – a way house or farm!”

When Kel looked back, she saw that Lord Wyldon had dismounted and was leading Cavall’s Heart. A mile back, when they first noticed the approaching storm, they had adjusted their scarves. His was wrapped almost completely around his head; his face was barely visible to Kel.

“There’s an inn four miles from here, if you think the horses will last that long,” Kel called back to him. The King’s Own had camped out in their yard while escorting an ambassador. He and his entourage had spoken well of the place, but that didn’t matter to Kel at this point. It could be half-burnt to the ground and she’d be grateful for walls around her.

She followed her instincts and led the way. They crested a hill and she saw lights through the dense snowfall. 

“It will be night before we reach it, at this pace,” Wyldon said gruffly.

“But they’ll have shelter, even if we end up camping out in the stable.” The hope of warmth from a hearth’s fire made her giddy. She couldn’t feel her toes anymore, and was certain that the last thing they had felt was wet. She wanted to let her body thaw, and maybe even have a nice hot soak.

Wyldon’s calculations weren’t far off. It was dusk when they reached the inn’s grim courtyard. A young man, bundled up to the eyes, took their mounts. He wasn’t so bundled, though, that Kel couldn’t hear his muffled grumblings as to where he was expected to keep two more horses. Kel noticed that it was a gold bit Wyldon handled over to the lad, rather than a silver piece.

The inn was even more crowded than they had expected. “We’ve no beef,” the innkeeper said, his voice sour. “You’ll have to have venison for dinner.”

“Venison is fine,” Wyldon said.

“The staff has been turned out of their rooms already to allow for the extra guest, but lucky for you lot we have one room left.”

Kel and Wyldon exchanged glances; his expression was concerned, hers uneasy. “I will sleep in the hostler’s room,” he said. “We _must_ have separate quarters.”

The innkeeper set his pen down and raised his eyebrows. “The one room I got _is_ the hostler’s room. I’d give you place in the stable stalls, but there isn’t room enough for the hostler to properly bed down as it is, with all the horses. You’ll have to share.”

“It’s fine, my lord,” Kel said, her voice low enough that only he could hear her. “I’ll sleep on the floor – I have my bedroll.”

Wyldon looked like he wanted to argue but conceded, sighing heavily. After discussing coin with the innkeeper, they were escorted to the hostler’s cramped quarters. The room was shabby and simple, but blessedly warm. 

“I don’t think the innkeeper recognized me as a woman,” Kel pointed out when he left. “So there should be no gossip.” She removed her scarf, draping it over a hook beside the door.

“Propriety isn’t just about what people will say, Keladry,” he replied, frowning. “It’s also about knowing you did what was right.” He shook his head and began to remove his outer clothing. “And when did you start calling me ‘my lord’ again? You’ve left my command.”

It was true, as much as it baffled Raoul, Neal and just about everyone they’d served with. It had shocked her into speechlessness, in fact, the day he’d suggested that she simply call him “Wyldon”. They’d developed an uneasy friendship over time.

“It’s different in public,” she said, removing her heavy coat.

“Especially when you try to pass yourself off as a young man instead of a lady knight.” 

She ducked her head. “Perhaps.”

“You take the bed,” he said gruffly.

“You have seniority.”

“I’m not so old and broken that I can’t sleep on the floor. Curse it girl, I’m only fifty-two.”

Kel smiled, then nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

He gave her a long look, eyebrows raised as if to say “sir?”

“Wyldon, you said it yourself – propriety is about doing what’s right even when no one is around. The whole world believes I should call you ‘sir’, even when no one else is around.”

He crossed his arms. “But I said propriety isn’t about what people will say, but about what we think is right.”

Kel winced. “Don’t be like Neal; don’t twist everything into a philosophical argument.”

“Don’t compare me to Queenscove ever again and I won’t. How are your feet?”

“My feet?”

“Yes, the two extremities you stand upon. Are they thawing well?” He led her to the bed and instructed her to sit down. He knelt before her and began to remove her boots. Kel protested, but he silenced her with a look. “These should’ve come off even before your cloak. Have you never had frostbite before?”

“No,” she replied reluctantly. He pulled off her wet socks, revealing that her clammy foot was splotched with red and white. 

“Does it tingle? Itch?”

“A little.”

“It’s probably not full-blown frostbite,” he said, “but you’ll need to warm up. Quickly. The sooner you’re under blankets, the better.” He patted her knee, then began to rummage through the pack at his side. He pulled out a corded bundle of rope and stood, tying one end to the hook beside the door. He stretched it down the center of the room, carefully attaching the other end to the window latch. The innkeeper had given them an extra blanket, made of itchy grey wool. Taking this, Wyldon draped it over the rope to create a wall between them. Kel rolled her eyes, simultaneously amused and exasperated; none of her other friends would bother going to such lengths.

“I’ll see if that venison is coming, and if there’s any hot cider,” Wyldon said, now masked from her sight.

“How are _your_ feet?”

“Fine,” he answered. “These boots are spelled. Now change your clothes and get under those covers while I see to supper.”

***

It was impossible to sleep with the violent wind and the awareness that Wyldon was just on the other side of his makeshift wall. They’d put the oil lamp out a half hour earlier, and despite her exhaustion she wasn’t close to falling asleep. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to leave tomorrow?” she asked, hoping he was still awake.

“It’s unlikely. Not as long as it keeps snowing, at least.”

Kel sighed heavily and turned on her side, facing the grey blanket. “I’m going to miss Esmond’s wedding, aren’t I?”

“Possibly,” Wyldon answered. “But we can make up the time on the road, if we can be out of here by the day after tomorrow.”

She lay in the relative silence, thinking about her friend’s whirlwind romance with a lady from Queensgrace. She wondered if, when the time came, would she fall in love so completely, or would it be a series of doomed crushes – short relationships that went nowhere? In her first year as a knight that had seemed ideal. But she’d been alone – mostly – for four years now.

“Is he the last of your set to marry?” Wyldon asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“No,” she said. “Merric is a confirmed bachelor, we’re certain. And Faleron has just begun courting a girl from Genlith – one of the lesser families,” she added, thinking of Vinson and what Wyldon might make of the connection. “And there’s me, of course.”

Wyldon said nothing, and she wondered if he’d drifted off to sleep. She went on, hoping he hadn’t. “Neal says I’m married to duty, and that there’s no hope for any man to sneak in and grab my attention.”

A soft chuckle was audible over the wind’s howl. “You will marry eventually,” he said. “You’ll just need to find a young man who shares your love of the realm and your sense of responsibility.”

“No, I’m too fickle for any serious romance.” She fell in love too easily, she had long since realized. And unlike Neal or Esmond, she had a tendency to fall out just as rapidly.

“The right person will change that,” he said, rather firmly. “I was accused of being fickle in my youth.”

Kel fought the urge to giggle at the thought. “You?”

“Yes, me. I wasn’t born an old curmudgeon.”

“You’re hardly a curmudgeon. Or that old,” she added.

“Well, I was once a young squire who fancied himself in love every time he turned around.”

 _Like Neal_ , Kel thought, but said nothing.

“Marrying was the last thing I thought I wanted.” His voice grew wistful. “I think the heart knows far better than the mind sometimes.”

“I-” Kel hesitated, unsure how to phrase what she wanted to say. “I meant to offer condolences,” she said, her voice low. “I’m terrible when it comes to writing letters, though, and by the time you came back to active duty, it seemed past due and no longer appropriate.”

She gulped, then continued. “But—I’m sorry you suffered such a loss, both you and your daughters. Owen told me—”

“What did he say?” Wyldon’s voice was low and even, and Kel could not read any emotion in it.

“He told me that he was worried about you.” It was a partial truth. Owen had said that Wyldon had been beside himself with grief, holding together only for the sake of his daughters. He’d described a kind of misery Kel could only imagine.

“Condolences can never come too late, Keladry,” Wyldon finally said. “The hardest thing about losing Vivenne was when the family left Cavall. It was easier when people shared stories about her and were working through their own grief. But theirs calmed over time. When I was finally ready to speak to someone about my pain, they were far from Cavall, continuing with their lives. I had to learn to continue on my own.”

Kel said nothing; she listened to the way his voice had become gruff and wondered if his throat burned as hers did.

“When you do marry, Keladry, I hope you are granted the rest of your life with your husband.”

***

The taproom was filled the next morning; people of all professions, all walks of life, were having bread, cheese and fruit to break their fast. The room was loud and raucous. Kel figured that most of the people weren’t pleased to be stuck at the inn, but were making the most of it – turning into a holiday of sorts. 

She and Wyldon took a table in a corner, as close to the great hearth as they could manage. 

“Wyldon of Cavall!” a cheerful and older woman cried out when they were halfway through their meals. She pulled out a chair and sat beside him, ignoring Kel completely. “I thought you were up north!”

“I was,” he replied. “Felydia, may I introduce you to my traveling companion, Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan? Keladry, this is Lady Felydia of Queensgrace.”

Lady Felydia looked over, curiosity in her light brown eyes. Her hair showed no signs of graying, but her face was lined with age. She was a woman who smiled easily, and had lived with the knowledge of her attractiveness. Kel thought for a moment, that she seemed perfect for a widower who was interested in remarrying. But then again, given their conversation the night before, she was sure that Lord Wyldon was not that widower. 

“Charmed,” the lady said, when Kel bowed her head in respect. “My husband will be sorry to have missed you.” She turned her head back to Wyldon.

“Is he not here?” Wyldon glanced around the room.

The lady laughed, and it reminded Kel of sleigh bells – all tinkle and no substance. “I’m traveling to Corus with my brother-in-law and his wife. Our niece is to be married.”

“To Esmond of Nicoline,” Kel murmured. “Of course.”

“Indeed,” Lady Felydia replied. “Are you acquainted with him?”

“I’m traveling to the same wedding, my lady. I consider Sir Esmond a close friend.”

“And you will be attending?” she asked Wyldon.

“No, I won’t. I’m heading to Cavall, then Genlith; I have business there. I assumed traveling together would be safer, so I joined the Lady Knight.”

Lady Felydia let out another peal of laughter. “Had you asked me thirty years ago that I would see the day that Wyldon of Cavall was cautious, I would have laughed and laughed.” It seemed to Kel she did little else. “My, have you changed since we were children.”

“Indeed, as have you.” His voice took on the frostiness that Kel was all-too familiar with from her training years. Lady Felydia, on the other hand, either did not notice or did not care.

“My dear sister-in-law beckons,” she said airily. “It’s always lovely to see you, Wyl.”

Wyldon visibly bristled. 

“And you, Lady Knight,” she added as an afterthought before making her way back across the room.

They continued to eat in silence, though Kel had a hundred questions to ask him. She didn’t want to pry, though. 

“She’s a distant cousin from Cavall,” he finally said, after a gulp of water. “Before she married into Queensgrace, that is. But we grew up together.”

Kel studied her butter knife. “Why do you object to her calling you that?” She didn’t want to say the shortened name aloud, having seen his shoulders tense up so much when Lady Felydia said it. 

He hesitated slightly before answering. “That was what Vivenne called me,” he said. “Few others do – and certainly not Felydia.”

Kel raised her eyebrows, hoping he might elaborate and explain the bitterness in his voice.

“When I began courting Vivenne, my sister was displeased. She turned to her closest friend, our sweet and charming cousin: Felydia, whose family hoped I might marry within the Cavall borders.

“She showed her true nature, making scathing comments that were outdone only by my sister. On the eve of our wedding she told me I would regret marrying a woman like Vivenne when others had more to offer.”

“And calling you ‘Wyl’ is just adding insult to injury,” Kel said softly.

“Perhaps.” Wyldon wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it beside his plate. “Or perhaps I’m far too sensitive and should stop holding grudges. Her largest insult on the family was turning out to be a meddling gossip, after all. She hasn’t done anything malicious that I’ve ever heard of. Not that I’ve listened for it,” he added.

“What did your sister say?” Kel asked, before realizing that Wyldon probably wouldn’t want her to ask.

“Elasabenne,” he began slowly, “told me that Vivenne was not good enough for me.” He laughed bitterly. “It was quite the opposite, I assure you, but she could never see it that way.”

“And have you been mulishly feuding ever since?”

He colored slightly, and she could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that they had.

“Can I be blunt, my lord?”

“Given that you address me as a lord, I’m guessing you have nothing kind to say, and are hiding behind your courtesy.”

“Wyldon,” she said, her tone much softer. “You’ve lost both your sister and your wife now. Is being right more important than having family?”

“You sound like one of my daughters,” he said with the shake of his head. “Enough of this. We’re stuck here for the day – would you like to spar?”

“I thought you would never ask,” she said with a grin.

***

“You don’t suppose Lady Felydia will spread the word that we were here together, do you?” Kel asked as they prepared for bed that night. 

“She won’t know we’re sharing a room,” he said.

 _Unless she asks the innkeeper_ , Kel thought. She climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to her chest. “You can blow out the lamp whenever,” she called out. When he did, she was surprised a how much light still came in through the window.

“I must have been exhausted yesterday. Or the storm blocked much of the moonlight; I don’t recall it being so bright,” Wyldon said.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“I’m unaccustomed to having trouble falling asleep.”

“It’s because you’re sharing a room with me.” Kel pointed out. “It’s too awkward.”

“Keladry, I’ve shared a room with Jesslaw, who had the unfortunate combination of being in love with my daughter and talking in his sleep. _That_ is awkward.”

Kel winced. “Does Owen know that he sleep-talks?”

“I wasn’t about to tell him.”

“One of the many reasons I like being a girl amongst men,” Kel said, stretching. “I almost always get my own quarters.”

“You talk in your sleep, too,’ Wyldon said, his voice dry.

“Did I say anything interesting last night?” Kel asked, nonplussed. She had no secrets to keep from him – only the potential embarrassment of discussing her practically non-existent love-life.

“Not at all,” he answered. “But your boy – Tobe – said that you tend to do so when you’re worried.”

“You should expect murmurings about snow storms and weddings tonight, in that case.”

“The snow has almost stopped. We can be out of here by tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“Thanks Mithros,” Kel muttered. She wondered, briefly, how her travels from Northwatch would’ve gone without his company. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” she said. “For making sure I wasn’t frostbitten, for keeping me amused all day.”

“It wasn’t altruistic, Keladry.”

“I know. But I can still be grateful.”

A sound of shuffling came to her from the other side of the wall, and even more moonlight flooded her half of the room when the blanket-barrier was folded back. Wyldon stood before her, still fully dressed except for his boots. His shirt was un-tucked and wrinkled, matching his soft and bewildered expression. 

“The first time I met you, I thought you were a foolish hellion. I couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.” His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it before.

Kel sat up in her bed, pulling her knees up under her chin. “I thought you were handsome and cold,” she confessed. “And stiff. You’re made entirely of stone, and I thought you would need a good deal of water to be flexible enough to let me stay in the training program.” Ten years before, had she spoken of such a Yamani subject, she would have had to explain. But ever since Shinkokami and her companions came to Tortall, such concepts were more common to all. 

“I’ve become flexible over time,” he said, sitting down on his bedroll without replacing the blanket curtain. “More flexible, at least.”

Kel smiled. “You accepted me. You encouraged me. I think that shows plenty of flexibility.”

“Once I accepted you, and saw who you really were, it was impossible not to encourage you,” he said, crawling back under his covers. “I don’t think you’ve ever known quite how remarkable you are.”

She didn’t know quite how to respond, other than murmuring her thanks. “I’m a product of my instructors,” she demurred.

“Goldenlake did well by you. I can tell by our bouts today that you’ve been sparring with the Lioness, as well.”

“You don’t like her.” Everyone knew this, but Kel had never heard Wyldon outright speak ill of the King’s Champion.

“Not particularly.”

“May I ask why?”

He sighed and rolled over onto his side, so he faced her. “Have you ever met someone so completely opposite from you that everything they say drives you to anger, even when they’re not trying to anger you?”

“Yes, I’ve met one or two people like that.” Kel hated that feeling of impatience she got with people for no obvious reason. 

“Imagine what that might be like,” he continued with a grimace, “when the person who irks you does it intentionally. When she challenges everything you say because she doesn’t like you, either. And her anger with you begins before you even speak.”

Kel remembered the day Wyldon’s resignation was discussed with Alanna, and how her fists had clenched at the mere mention of his name. “I see,” she said softly.

“We were political enemies at one time,” Wyldon said. “I was not fond of her lies to earn her shield, and at the time could not fathom any lady doing so without witchery or intercession from the gods. There was a great deal of sparring – physical as well as verbal – between us until the king forced us to a truce. Bad blood became a habit, even on the few occasions there was no reason for it.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Kel said, resting her head on her knees. “You seem to do everything with such deliberation.”

He laughed – it wasn’t the chuckle she’d heard in her first years as a knight, when she first made him laugh, and it wasn’t a dry chortle. No, he laughed outright, his wide mouth pulled into a smile. “That was the problem,” he said. “I was determined to dislike her, and we were poisons who brought out the worst in each other.”

Kel couldn’t help but smile. “The worst in you still honored the king’s request to train me as a page, rather than resign in protest.”

“You knew that Alanna spoke out against my objection?”

Kel nodded. 

“And yet you still think the best of me.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand you, Keladry.”

“Except that you already do.”

His eyes locked on hers, looking even darker and more serious in the moonlight. “I think I do, but then you surprise me.”

“Someone once told me that you don’t surprise anyone,” Kel began softly, “but every year since I’ve met you there’s been something you’ve done that’s thrown me off.” 

“And every time it likely had to do with a decision involving you,” he said. “Am I right?”

“Yes.” She shifted her body, lying down again and pulling the covers up to her chin. “We should try to get some sleep,” she said. The conversation was too easy, too comfortable, and she didn’t like that she wasn’t as worried about the snow as she had been only a half hour before.

***

Kel woke before Wyldon did the following morning. The small window showed her a clear blue sky outside, and she was relieved to see that the storm truly had passed. A glance at the floor showed her that Wyldon was nowhere as close to being awake. He slept on his side, looking more careless than she had ever seen him before. Peaceful.

Sitting up on her bed, legs crossed beneath her, she studied him. This, she felt, was the real Wyldon. He wasn’t frosty or aloof when he was sleeping. He wasn’t guarded with his emotions. His expression was neither stern nor soft – it was just… Wyldon. He was no longer the training master of her youth, nor the district commander of her first years as a knight. Instead he was just another knight, a man who’d sat up the night before, peering at her in the darkness as he tried to understand who she really was.

It amused her to think that she could be an enigma to anyone, let alone to him. There was something about Wyldon – from the very first time she’d stood in his office, under his scrutinizing eyes, she’d felt that he could see through her and understand her motivations. 

His eyelashes – thick and dark – fluttered, and Kel started. It wouldn’t do to have him know she’d been staring at him. Lying back down, she curled onto her side, where she could easily feign just waking up if he opened his eyes to find her gaze on his. She snuggled under the covers to keep out the chill, and for a moment she wondered what it would be like to have his heat to warm her.

 _Oh, Sakuyo_ , she prayed in her mind, upon the realization of where her thoughts were taking her. _This is the worst laugh you’ve had on me yet_. She closed her eyes fiercely and pulled the covers over her head. She was not going to spend her morning staring at a man she was growing attracted to. Especially Wyldon.

What would Neal say? She winced as she imagined his horror upon discovering that she had begun a romance with their former knight commander.

Not that a romance would begin, of course. Even if Wyldon were interested – _which he isn’t_ , she reminded herself – he would never act upon it. He would see it as taking advantage of a young woman. If he even saw her as a woman.

 _He can’t see me as anything but,_ a little thought betrayed her. _He’s the one who always stresses the “Lady Knight” title. Everything about me has always reminded him of my sex._

_But it’s not the same._

“Keladry.” His voice was scratchy. She didn’t remember him sounding like that the previous morning, but they had spoken more to each other the day before than they had in the past four months. And knowing Wyldon – a man of only necessary words – it was likely more than he spoke to anyone outside his family. “It’s time to wake, if you want to get to Corus in good time.” 

She pulled the blanket from over her head, not surprised to see that their makeshift wall was now back in its place. He was rummaging through his things on the other side, she could hear, pulling on his warmer traveling clothes. Reluctantly she climbed from the bed and did the same.

“I wouldn’t be surprised to find that many others here are moving out early. We want to pull away from the pack, so our capable mounts aren’t stuck behind their inferior ones.”

She smiled at his snobbery, but liked that Peachblossom was seen as capable in his eyes as a horse from his own stables. “Yes, I agree.”

“I’m hoping we can reach Corus by tomorrow without breaking our necks. And then I can be on my way to Cavall and Genlith.”

“Why Genlith?” she asked suddenly. He hadn’t mentioned at the onset of his travels that it was his final destination. It wasn’t until the conversation with Lady Felydia that she learned where he was going, and then there were so many other questions to ask.

“Vivenne was from Genlith,” he replied. “She may be gone, but they’re still my family by law.”

She stopped suddenly, a warm sweater pulled halfway over her torso. “G-Genlith?” she repeated, her voice barely more than a squeak. 

“Yes.” There was reluctance in his voice, and she could imagine how his mouth had jerked to one side as he’d answered her, as if the word was tugged from him. 

“Vinson—”

“Was a nephew of my wife’s.”

“Family.” She pulled the sweater on completely, tugging it down around her waist.

“Yes. Are you decent?”

“Of course.”

The blanket was yanked down and tossed onto her bed and he began to untie the knot at one end. Kel immediately went to deal with the other. 

“I didn’t hide it,” he said over his shoulder. “The king and the prime minister knew well enough that half the boys who came through training were related to me. And I didn’t do him any favors – I didn’t overlook transgressions.”

 _Because they were never brought to your attention_ , Kel thought bitterly, thinking of Lalasa. _Because the system is wrong, and you did nothing to change it._

“He’s a black mark on the family forever,” Wyldon continued gruffly. “My failure with him – my failure of duty to Vivenne’s family, to your maid, to every woman he hurt – that haunts me more than anything else in my career. In my life.”

She untied the knot unsteadily and began to coil it around her hands, walking across the room toward him. When they were two feet from each other, she lifted her eyes to his face and handed him the rope. “More than Joren?” she asked.

He said nothing for a long moment, gazing at her with as much solemnity in his face as she was sure was in hers. He looked different when he wasn’t clean shaven and tidy; even on the road he’d seemed less disheveled than she ever was. Now, though, he looked older and more tired than she’d ever noticed before. His stubble came in as grey as the hair at his temples, and she suspected he would look distinguished if he were to grow a beard. But he would look even more severe, she was sure.

“Even more than Joren,” he said finally, with a slight shake of his head, as if trying to remove thoughts that were pestering him. 

She knew to change the topic of conversation, even if she had a hundred more questions; he would not answer them. “Come. Let’s not waste time talking about things that can’t be changed, and get on the road all the faster.”

His mouth twisted into the slightest of smiles and he nodded. She knew that in that moment, they understood each other perfectly.


End file.
